For the World
by Noche Buena
Summary: Bonds are made and broken. B/S, X/W.
1. Her

Untitled Document

**For the World**

The stone cold walls of the crypt stood strong, not crippling over like the rest of the world. The dim sunlight poured through like molten volcano ashes, not caring whether it destroyed everything in its path, choking the life out of a living thing. The air in the crypt felt dirtied, the breath of the dead soiling the solemn area. Even the charred beer bottles were desperate, the shards of the green glass shimmering as though they were crying. Spike sat, slumping over his hunter green chair, just staring at the statue of a forlorn angel in front of him.

The angel's body was draped with a white cloth, matching its equally white skin. "Buffy," Spike whispered hoarsely, making the only sound in the crypt. Not even little Dawn huddling in the corner, her head resting upon her knees, and her dark hair flowing upon her back, said anything. Her eyes had been closed for an hour now, and almost every 10 minutes she'd start shaking, her eyes still squeezed shut with pain.

Spike had held her in his arms the first two times, smoothing her hair out and keeping her from hurting herself with the crossbows leaned haphazardly against the gray stone tomb. But the eigth time, he'd decided to stop holding. Looking at her pain filled face only reminded him that his Slayer was dead. Gone. Finished. Deceased. Swan dive to her death. 

The only slayer he'd met and fallen so completely in love with, had died for the world. Not because a vampire drained her, leaving her without any blood to take her to the afterlife, not because a demon had smashed her head into tiny little bottle blond pieces, and not because of the bloody pneumonia. *Buffy* had died for the world. Had died for the blue-eyed girl in the corner. 

Had died for her sister's blood to run. The Slayer was a warrior. Warrior for the world. Spike slumped against the couch even farther, resting his head on one hand. His ribs hurt from the fall he took, and the stab wound in his stomach. His nature knew it would heal. But his brain said that Buffy would not heal. She would just be- dead. Spike felt a shiver run up his back.

For some reason, Spike didn't feel those five seconds of satisfaction after he had watched the other two Slayers die. Part of him, the demon side, was telling him that he should be proud of himself- he had helped in the killing of her, in some damned way. Yet, another part- whether it was chip or human- or something completely different from his vampiric nature- just felt overwhelming sadness. 

The kind you get where there's something crushing your chest, and heavy pressure on all parts of your body. Pain hammering *everywhere.* The pain was almost enough to crush the darker nature away, but it still couldn't win the battle. Suddenly, a loud clatter arose from the corner of the room where Dawn was, surprising the blond vampire. Spike sprang up and came to her, asking her what was wrong. 

Dawn bit her lip and let out a muffled cry, bringing blood to the pouted pink lip. A loud wailing cry rose out of her. No words, just a heart piercing, deafening sound. Spike gathered his arms around the crying girl, and crushed her to his chest.

"Love, it's all right," he said as he tried to soothe her, looking up and closing his eyes for a while. He could feel her shake her head against his thin black shirt, letting two large wet spots where his pectorals were. Dawn pressed her face into his t-shirt and gripped his back tightly. 

"Buffy Buffy Buffy Buffy Buffy Buffy Buffy Buffy...." Dawn started to shake again, even more violently than before, calling out her dead sister's name monotonously over and over again. Spike swallowed a gulp of unnecessary air and glanced up toward the ceiling, caressing the young girl's soft hair, and trying to keep the girl from hurting herself. Spike's hands shook around her middle, every time Buffy's name was called. A sledgehammer through his heart.

Dawn clawed at her own face, making long streaks of red down past the puffy eyes and red nose. Where her fingernails followed, blood made little dots.

"No, no, don't do that, little one," Spike told her, drawing his hands out from her back and gripping her hands tightly. Dawn kneeled in front of Spike, her hands in a praying position inside Spike's hands. The blood on her cheeks and her mouth make her look like the angel statue in front of his chair. White marble skin with painted on doll cheeks and lips. Spike stared down the Slayer's little sister- the small lost angel girl. Dawn shook her head continuously, with tears pouring down her face that were probably making the cuts sting painfully.

"Buffy!" She screamed, the sound ripping out of her lungs. Spike tried to regain his composure, and really tried not to think of Buffy. But that scream left him practically helpless. Spike had helped Drusilla in her fits before- but she was insane. Seeing Dawn like that meant a lot more- because he'd known her when she wasn't insane. Seeing Dawn like this made him want to rot in hell forever. 

She was an *innocent,* not a sodding vampire or demon or hell god. She was just a human girl, whether or not she wanted to believe it. He didn't want to believe he was taking care of her either. "Baby, shhh," he said in a singingly soft voice. Dawn gave one last shudder and collapsed into his arms again, the shaking taking her human energy away from her. 

"I want Buffy back, Spike," she said softly, only loud enough for a vampire to hear. "I want my mom back. I hate this, Spike. I. Hate. It." She spat out as loud as she could muster, her vocal cords strained from the screaming.

"I know, love, I know. I miss them," Spike told her tenderly. Dawn turned around in his arms, and laid her burning head on his lap. Spike leaned against the cool stone of the walls, placing his legs straight out in front of him. 

For the rest of the day, they sat like that, Vampire and Key not talking or moving in the slightest. Night drew its shade upon the two creatures, and Dawn softly touched her face, and drew her arms up. She looked at the oddly still wet blood shimmering silver in the moonlight. In the darker patches of the area, she could see a faint glowing green in the blood, swirling around.

Spike stared at the blood complacently for a second, pointing out the oddly oozing stuff.. "That's your life energy, lass. That green glowy stuff." Spike told the girl with shimmering tears in her eyes. Dawn looked up into his angled face and midnight blue eyes in the soft darkness.

"Buffy's life energy. It's probably gone by now," she choked out. She observed it again. The green was looking a little bit fainter now. Dawn furrowed her eyebrows and winced at the pain in her cheeks and lips. "Spike?" She asked softly.

"That's my name," he told her. 

"I know. Why is the green stuff still glowing?" She looked searchingly into his shawdowed face. 

He shrugged his shoulders sadly. "I don't really know. Maybe you're turning human. No more key after you've used it once."

Dawn nodded, still looking a little disagreeable. "Maybe. But since Buffy ended her energy- maybe-maybe.... No, there's something-something about my blood." Dawn's brain was racing- something was in there, telling her something. She just had this- feeling. Suddenly, Dawn gasped a little, bringing her head up from his lap. 

Her face looked hopeful for a girl who'd just had several seizures and had scratched her face up. "Spike- I have an idea, maybe. Don't stop me now, I gotta tell you. What- what if Buffy's not dead yet?" Dawn stuttered, staring at the vampire, with deep shawdows in his face. 

Spike shook his head discontently, knowing that he had to disappoint himself again and Dawn. "I know dead, bits, and your sister," he stumbled on the words a little, "is pretty far gone." 

Dawn shook her head furiously. "Then why is it still glowing? Buffy told us herself that I was made out of *her.* I still have the key energy. I still am the Key, Spike. I'm still what killed my sister. We have to go save her, or at least do something! I can't stay like this. I can't. Unlike some people I'm not immortal."

Spike looked at her pointedly. "The only places you are going are the Wiccas, the Watcher, and the floppy haired bloke's. I told your sister I'd look after you and that's what I'm doing." Dawn looked at him impatiently, leaning against the wall next to him. "If there's any chance I can save my sister I might as well *try* and see if my energy will do something. You can look after me the morgue." 

Spike took a deep drag of an unlit cigarrette he found on the floor earlier, and thought for a second of what would happen if he were to let her go. It only took him a half second to figure out that what the bitty-Buffy was saying was right. 

His Buffy could bloody well be alive, and they weren't doing bull. "I've said it before, and I'm going to say it again. I hate to see you Summers women down in the dumps. I also would hate seeing myself down in the dumps, but since I don't own a bloody mirror, I spose I can't do that, now can I?"

Dawn shook her head. "Not really. Can we go now?" She asked, like a little kid begging for a lollipop. "Please?" Dawn stuck out her lower lip, the blood gone, and made her eyes droop a little and her eyebrows begging.

Spike looked at her as though she was insane, and chuckled throatily. The laugh hurt his broken ribs. "We can go now, girl." Dawn jumped up and brushed the rubbish off her soft velvet pants, and realized that she had blood all over her cheeks.

"Do you have a Kleenex?" She asked Spike, who was examining a rip on his black t-shirt. 

Spike shook his head saying, "Yeah, cos you know I get those colds so often." 

Dawn sighed loudly. "Fine. I'll just go out with blood on my cheeks." Spike disregarded the ornery tone of her voice, knowing she was hurting just as badly as he was. Spike tugged off his already ripped shirt and handed it to Dawn. 

Her face turned a beet red color when she saw his firm six pack and muscle bound arms, all looking rather like marble in the night. Spike shook his head at the girl, and opened the tomb to find another black t-shirt, pulling it on quickly. Dawn wiped the blood off her face with the shirt that smelled like cigarrettes and vanilla, and dropped it on the tomb.

"We have to go, Spike. Now." 

The blonde vampire opened the heavy door for her, and motioned quickly for her to come out. "So what are we doing, exactly?" Spike asked her. Dawn crept to the side of the mausoleum as Spike walked steadily behind her.

"I think I can do something with my blood. That'll save Buffy," she told him confidently.

"Don't get all cheery, little bit. Sometimes things like these can go and cock up everything." Spike took her small hand in his own cool, roughend hand, protecting her like he'd told Buffy he would. Dawn shook her head furiously.

"It'll work, Spike. It has to. I need her." Spike nodded slowly, understanding the whole depth of the situation. The world needed her. He needed her. "Alright then, love." Together they walked to the morgue in the hospital, Spike's hand jumping every once in a while when he thought about the possibility of Buffy being alive. __________________________________

Rupert Giles leaned against the headboard of his bed, fully clothed, in the loft, staring up at the dark wooden beams supporting the ceiling. His bedspread was a soft cream color, with satin designs over velvety soft fabric. An ornate ancient vase stood on a small table, blue swirls decorating its surface, brightening up the dark night space of his bedroom.

A picture of Buffy, Joyce, and Dawn rested on his night table, the three girls smiling at the somber man with dried salt tears on his face. He silently picked up the framed picture and gave a wistful smile at the three of them. Joyce, and the beautiful Buffy. And Dawn, whom he had let Spike take care of. All three beautiful women.

Giles felt a shudder rack his torso, one of deep sadness. "Buffy... Wherever you are- I just want you to know I was honored to have you as my Slayer. The world has never seen such power, strength, stamina, and love come out of a Slayer. You are the first of a new line of Slayers," he told the photograph sadly. 

How he missed the witty girl and her mother. How he wanted her back, back in the Magic Shop with everybody rushing around, saving the world and not dying. She'd done it before- why couldn't she have done it now? A small tear glided serenely down his face.

There was no way he could ever get her back- of course, there were spells that could do resurrection and such- but it wouldn't have been natural. Buffy and Joyce wouldn't have liked it. So Giles slowly set the picture of the three back down on the table, and pulled the comforter over him and took off his glasses. 

"Goodnight, Buffy," he told no one in particular. "Good night, Moon," he said as he gave a sad chuckle, staring out the window, tears dripping down his face ever slowly.

________________________________________

Muffled sobs came from the Magic Shop, stopping at the front door. The large store was dark, and full of odd knick-knacks and extremely powerful magicks. If a passerby happened to look in, they wouldn't find anything but a "closed" sign. Xander and Willow laid on a training mat in the training room without the lights on. 

Willow laid on Xander's chest, crying loudly, while Xander did his best not to start crying again. "Willow," Xander moved her face more comfortably on his burgundy sweatered chest. 

"Willow, babe."

Willow shook her head against his chest. "Don't talk," she told him strainingly. "I can't talk... It hurts my throat."

Xander nodded and swallowed, holding the sobbing girl. "What are we going to do?" He asked her. She bit her lip, the tears still swimming down her face. "I- I- I don't know, Xander. I," she hiccuped softly, "miss Buffy."

Xander swallowed a large sob wanting to come out of his mouth. "I feel like we have to do something. Why-why did we have to leave her in the hospital morgue? She deserve-" he choked on his words a little, "deserves more than that. She saved the world." 

Willow smacked her fist against the soft blue mat angrily. "I hate this. I hate her dead. I hate all of this. I-I-I don't know how to do funeral reservations. I don't know how to do any of this. She would have known what to do. She was Buffy." Xander nodded. 

"She was our Super Hero Buffy." Willow coughed softly, and Xander wrapped his arms around her.

"I wonder what Tara and Anya are doing. I feel bad for leaving them-but-" Xander stopped. Willow turned her beautiful green-blue eyes up at him, "they wouldn't understand," she finished for him. Xander hugged her even more tightly and nestled his head on the mat, spooning Willow into his arms protectively. "I'll always take care of you, Will, you know that. I'm not leaving you. Not even for Anya."

Willow turned to face Xander in his strong arms. She gently kissed his cheek and murmured, "Thank you."

________________________________________ 

Anya fidgeted on the couch in Tara and Willow's dorm room. This was not fun, she decided. Tara sat on another chair, made of white whicker, reading a book while leaning her head against one hand. 

"Tara?" Anya asked rather nervously. Tara looked up from her reading a bit tiredly. "Yeah?" Anya bit her lip. "Buffy's not coming back, is she?" 

Tara shook her head softly. "No. She's dead, Anya. Dead people don't come back unless they're vampires." Anya nodded slowly. This was definitely not fun. Buffy Summers was even stronger than she ever was as a vengeance demon. How could she die?

And how could Xander leave her with Tara, all by herself? She wanted Xander here, and now. Sex would make this much easier. "I don't like being a human," Anya told Tara truthfully. 

Tara made a small "ehn" noise and went back to reading "Spells for the 5th Level." Reading would help her get her mind off of everything. Especially Buffy lying down there on the rubble, and having Willow burst out crying in her arms. When Willow was unhappy- it was ten times worse for Tara, who didn't know what to do for her. 

Anya folded her arms over her chest and just decided to be quiet for the rest of the night. That's what grieving humans did, wasn't it? I think I'm supposed to cry, Anya told herself. But I don't want to! I want Buffy to be alive and not fornicating with my boyfriend. I want her to stake the bad vampires and fight the naughty demons and be alive. It's hurting Xander. I hate her for dying. Stupid mortals.

___________________________________________ 

Spike dodged into the double swinging doors of the morgue area quickly, pulling a nervous Dawn behind him. 

"Shhh..." He told her warningly, looking around carefully for any signs of a doctor. They found themselves in a corridor full of boxes, and shiny metal tables with nothing on them but some wrapped up cloth and some plastic toilets they used on people who couldn't go to the bathroom. It was extremely dark, and the only light came from a skylight up top, that shed little moonlight on the two. 

"Now," Spike murmured. "Where is our little bird?" Dawn looked down another corridor full of doors with windows to look into them.

"Number 13," she whispered, pointing at the door with a number over there. She nodded. "It has to be number 13."

Spike looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "You sure? Cos if you're not, then we bloody well could be in a room full of vampires. It is a hell of a number, you know."

Dawn nodded at him. "Mom was in room number 13. I think I can sense her. Her blood, I mean. We're connected- even if she's kind of dead." 

Dawn gave him a hesitant look, then asked, "Are you going to open the door? I really haven't gotten the hang of picking locks yet." 

"You're not gettin' any teaching from me, love. If your sister- comes back," he said slowly, "she'd stake me good. Alright?" Spike took out a small stainless steel knife from his duster, and worried the lock a little, until Dawn grabbed his hand, and twisted the doorknob. 

Spike looked at her, mock impress on his face. "Well then. We are a smart one, aren't we?" He walked in slowly into the blue tiled room. Four metal stretchers lay strategically placed 8 feet away from each other. Each corpse was covered with a blue starched sheet. Shiny little rollable tables lay next to each steel stretcher upon the corpses lay, full of knives and over devices.

Dawn shuddered a little. Spike placed a hand on her shoulder, and went over to one of the examinating tables. He gingerly lifted up one of the sheets, and grimaced. "What?" Dawn asked, scared. Spike glanced over at her, wrinkling his nose a little. 

"Decapitation and, uh, it looks like someone cut off his bollocks." Dawn wrinkled her nose in return. 

"Ewww... Spike, why'd you have to go and tell me that?" She inched closer to the glass cupboards with sterilized tools in them, trying to stay as far away as she could from the corpses. Even though it was her idea, the simple idea of finding Buffy was a lot to handle for a 14 year old girl. Small halogen lights barely lit up the examinating room, giving just enough for Dawn to see.

Spike shrugged. "You asked," and lifted up another sheet. *Definitely* not Buffy. The sheet floated softly back down on the dead woman's face, as if an angel had just decided to give her sleep. Dawn gulped loudly. 

"There's still two more corpses, you know. We don't have that much time."

Spike nodded in understanding at the girl wringing her hands. He lifted up the 3rd sheet, and didn't say a word. On the steel examinating table, laid Buffy Anne Summers- naked.

Spike took in a deep breath. Glancing at her, he could see her pale skin glowing softly. Her eyes were shut and her eyelashes looked dusted onto her face. No make-up. Her lips stood oddly red, relaxed against her face, not moving like they usually were around him. Buffy's hair splayed around her face, looking like a golden halo. Dawn came over, and took in a breath. 

"That's her," she told Spike. Spike nodded slowly. "That's her." She was so fucking beautiful it hurt. He swallowed down a tear. She even hurt his throat. Her soft white arm was laid across her breasts, covering them softly, as if she were trying to hide her heart from death. Dawn stared down at her sister, her blood. She was pale. Everything about her was pale. 

Dawn shook her head. "Don't be dead already," she told the lifeless Buffy's blood. "Don't be dead." Dawn took a knife from the small table next to the table Buffy was on, and switched on the light. Spike was too far gone to notice the knife grabbing, looking at his dead love. All he could do was stand helplessly and stare at the goddess before him.

Dawn stared at Buffy conclusively. "I have to do this. I'm getting you back, Buffy," she choked a little on her words. She took the shining metal knife in her hands, and saw before her what she was to do. Dawn drew a two inch line with the knife on her left wrist. "Shallow cuts," she whispered to herself, and came closer to Buffy. Dawn gently lifted up the arm across her breasts and turned it over. 

There, she slit a smaller cut across Buffy's cold wrist, except deeper. Dawn's hand shook a little, and Spike reached over and stared at Dawn full in the face. Dawn dropped the knife into Spike's hands, and Spike made a vertical line across the horizontal one Dawn had drawn. A blood cross burnt into Spike's own wrist.

"For Buffy," he told Dawn. The dark haired girl nodded. "For Buffy," and she pinched her wrist, making her blood drip slowly into Buffy's wrist. Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Spike hovered over Buffy's body across from Dawn, looking into his wrist. It would never go away, he knew. Buffy's blood cross would be sizzling into him forever. Dawn pursed her lips and grabbed a larger knife, slitting her own blood cross. 

She pressed it into Buffy's, hoping this was some sort of symbolic thing that would make her coming back a surefire thing. Spike caressed Buffy's shining hair softly, and noticed some dark brown roots at the base of her head. 

"Not a natural blonde, is she?" He asked Dawn. Dawn looked up from her ministrations and shook her head. "She's been dyeing it ever since she turned 13." Spike almost started laughing, but he could almost hear Buffy's rage flying at him for finding out her secret of not actually being a blonde. That was how much he believed she would come back. If his heart could've beaten, he'd have gotten a heart attack.

Dawn went back to squeezing her wrist as hard as she could, trying to make the glowing green stuff spill into Buffy. "Come on," she said urgently. "Just wake up."

Spike stared at the girl trying to revive her sister. "Pet, I don't thin-" Dawn cut him off, looking at him fiercely. "It is going. To. Work." She spat out as she started rubbing her wrist frantically against the cold joint of her sister. 

"Please?" she murmured underneath her breath. Dawn let go of Buffy's bloody wrist, and let it drop against the steel table, making a small "clang" as the claddagh ring around her finger hit the side. 

"She's wearing his ring," Spike said, as a tear splashed against Dawn's face. "Whose ring?" The young girl asked, not knowing what it meant at all. Spike held Buffy's cold hand in his own for a moment. "The girl was going to die. Oh, God. That-That's what she was going on about. Not me, her... She was trying to tell ole Spike-" Another tear dripped down Dawn's face. "What are you talking about?" 

Spike twisted Buffy's Claddaugh ring off her finger, and inspected the inside. "For Angel and Spike," read the scratchings, presumably made with a knife. He glanced back at the goddess with a blue sheet covering her chest down. "She knew she was going to die. Not because of Glory or the world bloody ending- she knew." 

All the thoughts in his head were in unison. She had not scratched that out until last night. He knew it. He inspected it a little more, with extreme care. A date was enscripted in the heart. 52201. A sudden urging bubbled up in his chest. Spike cradled the ring in his right hand.

"Love..." He told the unmoving Buffy. "Wake up. Come on. For the poof, wake up. For the chit, wake up. Just wake the feck up!" And with that, Spike collapsed, his torso laying upon Buffy's own. "Please, love..." Spike cradled her face softly. She couldn't be gone now, she couldn't. No. She wasn't gone. She wasn't.

Dawn stared in shock, the tears running freely down her face. "Buffy's gone, isn't she?" She asked Spike. The blonde vampire made no reply, but continued to hold Buffy's limp upper body in his leather clad arms. A crimson blood tear ran down his face, and he kissed Buffy's palm. 

"Come on..." He whispered forcefully, trying to get the blonde girl awake. A couple other bloodied tears slid down his face, his head still nestled in her icy hand. Not noticing the soft green glow coming out of Buffy's blood cross, because he had carefully avoided it as to not burn his face, he sobbed out her name in a very unvampire like fashion. 

The blood from his eyes had dripped into her bloodstream. "Buffy.... I *love* you. Please.... Come back...." 

Dawn gasped suddenly, the cross glowing even greener, lighting up a small radius of the room. "Spike!" She shouted loudly, shaking his shoulders. "Get OFF my sister!" Spike turned his head in surprise, his cheeks red because of the crying. 

"Look!" She pointed at the green light, and glanced down at at the own religious scrawl in her wrist, glowing like Buffy's. She gave a quick look over to Spike, where on his wrist, the burning blood from Buffy and her own system glowed the brightest. 

The vampire got himself off of Buffy, and looked at their wrist incredulously. "Bloody hell."

Dawn shook her head, pointing at her wrists. "Bloody Key." Spike gave out a little chuckle.

"So then I must be the bloody hell." 

Suddenly a finger twitched on the body of the Slayer.

"Spike..." Dawn's voice wobbled a little. "I think it kind of worked." As Buffy's arms started twitching and when it flopped up, Spike nodded in agreement.

"I'd say so." 

Both their voices were shocked, and as Buffy's eyes flew open, Dawn gasped loudly and clung to Spike like a little girl. 

The Slayer's mouth opened and a croaky voice from somewhere deep came out of her flushed body. "Blood... Need. Blood." Her other arm which used to be unmoving, snapped up and grabbed Dawn's throat

. Buffy pulled herself up and looked at Dawn ravenously with wild eyes. "You have blood... Give me." With that, Buffy weakly tried to bite Dawn's neck, but Spike grasped her hands off a very surprised Dawn, who was left gasping for air. 

"That," Dawn pointed at Buffy, "Is not my sister." Dawn looked horrified at her. Buffy flopped back on the table with a bang. In 5 minutes, as Spike held her arms down and Dawn pinned Buffy's legs to the table, Buffy had already moved all parts of her body and was still staring at Dawn's neck hungrily. Spike shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows down at the half-naked not-Buffy. He would have to put a shell up around him and get ready. This was not his Buffy, he continued to tell himself.

"Didn't anybody ever tell you it's not nice to eat your sister?" 

Buffy grinned and arched her back. "No... Didn't anybody tell you it's not nice to hurt the one-" she said loudly, "you LOVE?" Buffy asked him seductively, pouting her lips. 

Dawn looked in horror as the sister she once knew shifted her face into a line of ridges on her forehead appeared and her eyes turned a deep yellow. "She's a-a-a," stuttered Dawn, "a vamp-p-ire." 

Buffy's mouth curled into an evil smile, disregarding her meal for the night. "Hello, sire," she called cheerfully up to her blue eyed "savior."

Spike's mouth went agape. "Not possible," he choked out. "You can't be my Childe- you have to be alive when you drink." 

Buffy's eyes went almost innocently wide. "Well, I have my cutie patootie of a sister to thank for that, don't I?" Buffy shook her chest a little and the sheet fell off her body. Leaving her completely naked. 

The Slayer crouched up her knees, and slammed Dawn in the stomach with her feet. Dawn flew across the room, and hit her head against the smooth blue wall. "Ow," she muttered, rubbing her head. 

Spike looked at her and with a crucial tone, he whispered, "Go- go quick," to the trembling brunette standing against the wall. Dawn nodded, and with a desperate leap, she skidded out of the room and down the hall. 

Buffy swung her pale legs over the edge of the examinating table, and smiled coquettishly at Spike, who could only stare astonishly at the girl in front of him. "So, are you gonna examine me or what, Doctor Spike?" Vamp Buffy flirted. She laid down again on the steel examinating table and crossed her arms behind her head.

"Well," Spike told her confidently even though he was scared to death inside, "I can already tell by the smell that you've got something growing down there."Of course, that wasn't true, because he'd already seen those parts, and there was *definitely* nothing wrong there.

Vamp Buffy nodded, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes a little back in her normal face. Which made it even harder for Spike to talk to her. "So, what's up, Sire boy?" Buffy practically mocked up by saying this. "How's *Buffy*?"

Spike shrugged menacingly at her. *This isn't Buffy,* he had to tell himself. *Is not is not is not is not Buffy.* He glanced down at her breasts. *Oh, that's Buffy. He'd know those boobs a mile away.*

Regardless of the state of her breasts, he told her, "She's dead. Took a nice leap into a portal, she did." 

The blond female in the room pouted her lips. "Then you'll just have to settle with me, won't you?" Vamp Buffy slid off the table gracefully and walked one step to Spike. She licked her finger with her pink tongue and let her finger trail down his gorgeous cheek bone, going ever lower down his buff chest and abs, just barely stopping at his belt. 

Spike scrunched his eyes, and groaned softly. Buffy smiled at him brightly. "No glove," she whispered so very close into his ear, "no love." She bit his ear softly, making Spike bite his lip quickly. 

*No, no, no, no, no.* Spike placed his hands steadily on her shoulder and tried to regain his composure. "I hadn't heard that they gave vampires pregnancy test. That's a new one." 

Not-Buffy smirked, and switched places on him. She spun around, and pushed Spike's body down on the examination roughly. Her hair hung so enticingly over his face, along with her breasts. *Gahhhh....* thought Spike. *She's hotter than- ow! STRONG! Ow!*

"Maybe I should examine *you* and see what the robot taught you," she whispered, her hands ever so cold as they rubbed his arms. *This is not.. Going to be... Ahhh... Oooooh. No. Easy.* thought Spike, who seriously would have been blushing.


	2. Triangle

Sorry for the state of the last chapter, I really didn't review it and fix all the errors in there.   
  
  
  
  
Buffy hung over Spike like a vampire bat, wanting the delicious veins of blood guiding torrid amounts of blood into her mouth, filling her own dead veins. Her face shifted once again, making ridges and scars across her normally quite beautiful face. "Hello... Sire..." not-Buffy said softly into Spike's soft yet cold ear. He was lying rather uncomfortably on the examinating table, half of his back digging into the side. Spike was so shocked he could hardly think of what to do, except for closing his gaping mouth. Several incoherent thoughts ran through his head. She was... Too close. Spike took hold of not-Buffy's naked shoulders and forcefully pushed him off of her, trying to keep his own face from changing into its natural state.   
  
Vampire Buffy could sense that he was trying to be the "Good one" in this situation, and so the push didn't faze her a bit. "What now, William? Suddenly you can't take the evil? The power that comes with it all?" Her yellow eyes with the tiny golden flecks flashed as she pushed him back down on the table. Spike winced, knowing that the other vampire would be much stronger than he, as the bloodlust, energy of the Key, and the Slayer parts were now mixed together.  
  
"Excuu-seuh me if I'm wrong," vampire Buffy flashed a fanged grin, "but aren't you the one without the soul? That's right! You are! You know who *does* have a soul?" she waited only two seconds before answering her own question. "Angel does. That's right. Sweet, *darling*, Angel."   
Spike stared up at her face, daring her. "What are you gonna do 'bout it, Slayer? Huh?"   
  
She pursed her lips and punched him in the nose forcefully. "I don't know," she said sweetly. "Maybe I should just take it out on you. Poor, defenseless, chipless Spike. So sad, and yet so sweet," she mocked him, caressing the spot where she had punched him.  
  
"Hey! Mind your elders, bitch." Spike suddenly took a hold of her hair, and pushed the back of her head into the side of the steel table. He took his hand and gripped her neck with it, letting go of her hair and taking a large, shiny scalpel off the small tray near the light. However, this gave Vampire Buffy time to kick her leg up and get Spike in the eye, making him drop the scalpel and lose the grip on her neck.   
  
She took the liberty of grabbing the scalpel off the floor with her toes and making it spin up to her by kicking it. Spike now sat up on the examination table, his own neck bound by the extra-enhanced naked Slayer Vampire. "Sweetie, honey. Don't mess with me, okay?" she held the scalpel ever closer to his muscled neck, toying with it a little before making a deep gash on the side of his neck. Spike tried to get hold of Buffy's arm and snap it behind her, but at that time, she was so blood hungry, she didn't care.  
  
"Blood," she groaned loudly, seeing the pool of blood appear on Spike's neck, dribbling into his black shirt. Vampire Buffy gripped his shirt hungrily and bent into his neck, slicing two thin holes of her teeth into his neck and submerging into the large vein there. Spike gasped, almost completely powerless. His hands seemed to find the small of her back and they started caressing the soft cold skin there, as she sucked slowly on his neck, her body pressed up to his. Another pull of blood. Oooh. The sucking noises grew louder as Vampire Buffy's instincts kicked at the same time Spike's did. As Spike's world became fuzzier and fuzzier, and there was only blood and Buffy and blood and need, the sucking stopped. Spike could barely hold himself up as he saw Vampire Buffy pull away, trembling and scared. She was touching her own hands, looking disgusted and terrified.   
  
Her face calmed to a human pose, but Spike's cold blood lay splayed out on her lips and the side of her mouth. Her bright green eyes roamed over the room slowly, twitching a little when they saw two blood covered knives. Spike looked at her, his mind dazed and the blood flow slowing out of his neck. His own brilliant blue eyes looked into her own.  
  
Buffy gave a small cry and collapsed to the cold tile floor, completely horrified now. She touched her lips, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she found scarlet liquid on them. "Where..." a hoarse voice came out from her body. Spike slipped off the table, crumpling into a heap next to Buffy, who was lying in a fetal position facing him, looking as if she was about to start crying. He crawled feebly over to his Slayer, and lay pressed up to her at her back. Spike grabbed the blue sheet that was laying on the floor of the morgue, and covered her body with it, tucking it in at some spots to keep her- warm? Spike shook his head, scowling at himself. *She's a Vampire. Not my Buffy.*  
  
Then why was she acting this way? Spike was even more confused than before. Vampires wouldn't feel anything. What if it was his blood that was making her like this? Spike wasn't sure how Buffy was here right now if the demon had just been in her body. How?  
  
"Where am I?" she asked so softly that only Spike could have seen her. "I'm so confused.... Why?" The Buffy form turned around in his arms, now laying on his chest just in the blue sheet. "It was so cold. I didn't like it and I was trapped and I couldn't get out and no one would let me out and I felt like I couldn't breathe and then I couldn't and it was blue all over, Spike, why?" her voice broke as she finally said his name for the first time since her death. She burrowed her head into his firm chest on the floor of the morgue where they lay, huddled together.  
  
Spike cradled her further into his arms, caressing her hair softly, knowing that his Buffy was back. Not that she could remember much of her living life yet, but this was her. So what was the Vampire doing in her?   
  
"Love... You're dead," he told her incredulously, as if he had just accepted it himself. But that part was sort of true. He hadn't really thought she was gone. Somewhere in his being, he knew she would come back.  
  
"Dead?" her voice wavered, as she screwed her eyes shut, and bit her lip. "Why am I dead?" she sounded hollow, as if everything in her was void of all thoughts and memories.   
  
Spike's head hurt from the blood he had lost, and he had to rack his brain to remember how she had died- it was that bad. He took a deep unnecessary breath to calm himself, to not be affected by her closeness. It wasn't because she was clad only in the sheet- it was because she was there. "You died to save the little one. Your sister. The little chit had bits and pieces of problems here and there..." Spike didn't want to trouble the girl more than she already was, but if she couldn't understand, then... He decided to stop talking and just let her rest. But Buffy seemed to think against Spike's thoughts and became quite restless, fidgeting in her arms slightly, with an expression on her face that clearly said she was either annoyed, or had a bad case of constipation.   
  
Spike smartly decided that she was most likely annoyed, and slipped his arms out of his tight embrace around the small blonde Slayer staring straight up at the ceiling wonderingly, as if she had just seen a ghost. "I know her," Buffy pointed straight up, her arm outstretched as if to catch the invisible person probably swirling around up there.  
  
"Tell her I said hello," Spike told her back, wanting to hug her again so badly. He laid on his back on the floor of the morgue, with Buffy laid in the same position next to him, still looking up at the invisible woman.  
  
"She knows," Buffy told him confidently. "She knows. She says the marshmallows will always be at her house. She's so familiar, Spike. You're familiar too. And I know your name. How do I?"   
  
Buffy's face was again clouded with confusion, her eyes squinting up at the white ceiling yet again. "Can you tell me, lady? Who are all these people in my head?" Buffy's bottom lip trembled slightly, and she crushed herself onto him again, hugging him tightly to her body. "Don't leave."  
  
Spike wasn't sure whether she was talking to the ghost lady or himself, but he did know one thing. He couldn't bring her to Giles' just yet. She was too confused, and if the vampire came back just as he brought her to the house, he knew he would stake her immediately. Giles was that good of a Watcher- and father figure to let her live as a vampire. And then it'd all be over too soon and Spike wouldn't be able to tell him about the two sides in time.  
  
Spike patted her head akwardly, and whispered huskily, "You'll know in due time, love. Just wait awhile."   
  
Buffy shook her head rougly against his chest. "But I want to know now. It was too cold and it was cold cold cold cold. I got sick of waiting all by myself and I was stuck and with no one with me and I hated it but now you're here and which is why I'm alive now and why I'm in here with the other people that are dead and why I'm here with you. And your name is Spike and you're the only one I know and it's scary," she babbled.  
  
Spike, for once, was spellbound by something that wasn't even magic.  
  
Buffy.  
  
____________________________  
  
A large pounding noise came from the inside of Rupert Giles' house. So loud it rose him from his half-sleep and half-nightmare he was having upstairs in the somewhat lot. He rushed down the stairs hurriedly clad in striped pyjamas with a hastily tossed on burgundy bathroom and opened the door, clicking the locks off quickly. There, in the doorframe, he found a crying and hiccuping Dawn, and he ushered her in quickly, worried at her appearance. He knew Spike had been taking care of her in his crypt, but where was he now?  
  
Giles offered her a seat, but the puffy-eyed girl with messy hair refused to sit and began pacing around the living room, practically in hysterics. "What's wrong? Where's Spike?" Giles asked, his voice sleepy but his mind sharp and ready. He knew this was something gone wrong with Buffy. Dawn had tried something. He knew it.   
  
Dawn let all the words tumble out of her in a rush, still walking around, with her arms crossed over one another protectively. It took her only 6 minutes and 37 seconds to tell him, she was speaking so fast. She told Giles everything, and once he had heard most of what she was saying, he went over to the bookshelves and began pulling books out of it at a furious rate, finally coming to one of the Council's books. It was black, dusty, and old, and didn't have a title. Yet, it was not one of the diaries that would tell him nothing. He opened the musty book, thumbing through it. Dawn came up from behind him, looking over his arm, still crying. Giles knew Buffy's sister was having an awful time dealing with this, but he had to get Buffy before she killed anyone- because Giles knew what the Council would do with a Slayer turned vampire- he'd seen it before, with his father.  
  
"Did you find anything?" murmured Dawn softly, who had come to rest on his green couch, lying down with pillows resting upon her stomach. She took a heavy gulp, wiping her tears away from her face. God, it hurt so much. And Dawn had nobody now, not even Spike, probably. Her sister- no- that VAMPIRE had probably killed him and it was all her fault. "It was my fault in the first place. It's all my fault," she said outloud, accidentally. She hadn't meant to, but...  
  
Giles stopped reading from the book when he heard that. He peered through his glasses at the motionless girl on the sofa. He went to go sit on the glass coffeetable strewn with various magazines on it. Giles grabbed hold of her hand gently and told her the opposite. "No, dear. It is not your fault. None of this was your fault. None of it, you hear me? What the monks did was wrong, and immoral. To put such a tremendous amount of energy into an already energetic 14 year-"  
  
Dawn stopped him, gripped his hand tighter, and looked up at him with shining blue eyes. She was going to cry again, she knew it. She didn't want to, but more tears came. "I'm 15 now. Today was my birthday."  
  
Giles stared at the girl, but then his look turned to sadness. "I'm so sorry, Dawn. Happy 15th birthday to you. I, uh, had a present for you. I have it right here, in my pocket." Giles searched around in his pocket for what he was looking for, and found it. He handed a small box to Dawn, who sat up slowly across from the aging man. She looked at him thoughtfully, the stains on her face from the crying still visible.   
  
She opened it, and found a Claddagh ring inside it, quite like Buffy's that she had seen in the morgue. It was beautiful, with a heart and hands and a crown. "Thank you, Giles. It's beautiful."  
  
Giles cleared his throat. "It's actually from your sister and I. She wrote something in it for you. She thought she would give it to you when you turned 15. She was called in as a Slayer when she was 15 and she thought you might like one like hers."  
  
Dawn started crying again, and Giles akwardly tried to hug her. Dawn threw her arms around her friend and the crying eventually subsided, leaving her with the box almost crushed in her fist and the ring in her other hand. She let go, finally taking the time to read the inside. In it, the same scratchings read. "From Slayer to Sister. I *heart* you, Dawn."  
  
She slipped it on slowly on her ring finger. It fit perfectly, as she knew it would. Giles went back to researching, and finally suggested that Dawn might want to help if she was bored.   
  
Dawn picked out a boring looking book from Giles' normal bookshelves (the ones without the demonology stuff) and looked through it, her mind not really on the topic. Until she came to one page, where an extremely old looking sheet of paper lay tucked in between sheets and sheets of white paper. In a thick, old font, had the word "Triangle" scrawled at the top of the paper.  
  
"What the hell is this?" Dawn said, completely taken by surprise.   
  
"What?" asked Giles, alarmed.  
  
"Sorry about the swearing..."  
  
"No, not that. It's your birthday. Swear away. What is it?" Giles looked over her shoulder now in the lighted atmosphere underneath the lamp, extremely curious.  
  
"Dear God..." Giles breathed out as he finished reading it out, seeing that it was in Latin and only the name was in English. What the paper said in Latin- was definitely not good.  
  
  
  
  



	3. Those Tears of Yours

"What is it?" asked Dawn worriedly. 

Giles shook his head. Rubbed the paper to see a little more in the musty yellow. Blowed on it, and could finally manage to see the rest of what it was saying. Dawn handed the book and the paper over to him, as she was still holding it. A wrinkle appeared in her forehead as she tried to read what was on there. Reading upside down had never been an easy feat. The Watcher noticed her struggling to read it, and instructed her to go sit down.

Dawn clenched her teeth, gritting them slowly, and definitely not enjoying the feel of enamel rubbing off in little chunks. "I want to see it, Giles. If this is about my sister-turned-Vampire, then I have to know. Come on." She stared at him insistently.

He slowly started translating the old scarlet words in his head, pausing for just a moment to mull things over. How could he tell the girl? He'd have to know what she had done first.

"Dawn? What exactly did you do when you tried to resurrect Buffy?" Giles asked, trying to stay calm and not yell at the young girl. How could she have b- oh. Right. He would have done the same if he were her. After all, she was made from her sister, how could not have? How could he have left her with *Spike*, of all peo- Vampires, he corrected himself.

The brunette crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wooden book shelves. Stared at her feet. "You'll get mad at me if I tell you everything that happened."

"I won't get mad. You have my word. But you have to tell me- because if you did what's in this book, then..." his voice trailed off, leaving Dawn to finish it for him in her head.

Her voice was shaky, and she just felt dizzy all around. "I put my blood in Buffy's wrist. I thought that if I had enough energy left to do this, then she'd have some energy. And it wasn't working and Spike told me to stop but I couldn't, Giles. And then Spike looked at her for a long, long time and started crying an-"

Giles stopped her suddenly, his mouth almost in an agape manner. "He did what?"

"He was crying. He was holding her hand and crying."  
"Was it the hand that was cut?"  
"Yes," Dawn replied shakily. "Is that bad?"  
"Well, if he had just eaten, then yes. Were his tears bloody?"  


"I don't know. I can't remember because I don't want to remember. Can we please just stake her?" Dawn asked urgently. She knew it was horrible to think that way, but she wouldn't be able to live with Buffy like that. Evil all the time, killing Willow and Tara and Xander and Giles and Anya and maybe even Spike. Buffy made her life a living hell before she was a vampire. And now....

Giles glanced down at the paper again. He pointed at it, telling Dawn, "That's not such a good idea. What this paper is saying is that this 'Triangle' is a balance between three- sort of a resurrection. One is a mediator- a balance between good and evil and can be both, at times. A gray, if you wish to call it that. One- is evil. Fights for the darkness. And one- is good and completely pure, is good to the core. And if these good and evil forces are combined in the Mediator- he/she/it will have a Split- meaning it shall have two faces- one good and one bad. The Mediator is used to balance out the Universe, and usually this sort of ritual is used before an Apocalypse, usually to prevent it."

"So who's good, who's bad, who's the Mediator?" asked Dawn, glad to be off the subject of her dead sister. She felt like she would burst into tears just thinking about it.

"Well, according to this, Buffy must be the Mediator. So Spike must have put some of his blood into Buffy accidentally. He is the evil one, you are the good one. That is the Balance, or the Triangle."

"Okay, no. I'm sorry, Giles, but I can't be part of a Triangle. I suck at geometry," Dawn said feebly. Oh god. Oh no. "I just resurrected my sister. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no," was all her brain could process.

Giles looked almost helpless. Why was he so sad? He was just her Watcher. Dawn stared at him for a moment, looking so lost in his bathrobe and slippers, standing by the bookcases. He looked older now, somehow much more weary. "I am not Buffy's Watcher anymore, Dawn. You know that."

Dawn nodded, softly, not quite understanding about what he was about to say. "Yeah. I'm not her sister anymore, either."

Giles shook his head, and placed a hand on her shoulder, looking deeply into her blue eyes. "You will always be her sister."

She looked into his eyes defiantly, her mouth pursed. "Then you will always be her Watcher. You won't get another Slayer, Giles. We have to pull everybody together in to help her. She's the only girl I have known to avert six Apocolyspses and live, but then fight a god and die. She shouldn't have died this way, Giles. Even if she died to save the world."

This was a first for Dawn. Usually she didn't tell people what to do, or what to say, or anything. She was easygoing, even though when Buffy ordered her to do something, she usually did. But now- she had to handle things. She was made out of Buffy, wasn't she? "I'm not going to slay, though," Dawn told him. "That's Buffy's job. My job is to get her back- her, not two split sides."

"You need to sleep," said Giles softly. He took her hand off her shoulder, looking so sad he made Dawn want to cry. "Do you want the couch or the bed?"

"What about Spike?" asked Dawn. She didn't want Spike to die because he told her to go to Giles. She didn't want to die. Everything was all wrong. Nothing would ever be the same. Death would be around everything- the air was permeated with it. "What if he can't handle her and he kills her and- she comes and gets us in our sleep?" Dawn's voice became frantic.

"She can't get in, Dawn. And Spike is quite capable of handling a Slayer, he's proved it to us many times," he said, trying to reassure her.

"But he hasn't handled Buffy as a vampire before! What- what if they-"

"What about Spike?" asked Dawn. She didn't want Spike to die because he told her to go to Giles. She had done too much, had been so much trouble. "What if he can't handle her and he kills her and- she comes and gets us in our sleep? Oh, God, Giles, I don't want to die! I'm just one girl, not an army... How am I- how am I going to do this? " Dawn's voice became frantic, her face flushed and her words hurried.

"She can't get in, Dawn. And Spike is quite capable of handling a Slayer, he's proved it to us many times," he said, trying to reassure her. Giles wanted to help so much, but he knew deep down, and this early, that it would most likely be useless.

"But he hasn't handled Buffy as a vampire before! What- what if they-"

Giles was suddenly struck with an obscene mental picture of the two. He shook his head trying to clear it. "They won't."

"Are you-" started Dawn, looking so lost and nervous, trying not to start crying again. So scared. A little tremor kept on fluttering in her stomach, and it felt like someone kept pushing a pencil on the back of her throat, the pressure there binding and making her feel dizzy. The room shifted a bit, fragmenting in her mind, her blue eyes storming over with silver clouds. "Sure?"

The older man looked very tired, standing at the foot of the stairs, only in his bathrobe and slippers. His eyes opened half-way towards Dawn, who sat down quietly and primly on his green leather couch, not facing him anymore. She had apparantly decided to take the couch. He stared at her back helplessly, and smiled thinly, almost a frown, really. "Yes. You need to sleep, Dawn. We all have to. We can't do anything about it right now, love. In any other situation, we would. This isn't your sister anymore, you must remember that. Spike will take care of her, in her pure and her evil form, neither of them your sister. This- is not Buffy."

Dawn gave a slight half-nod, not believing it. 'It is Buffy. It's Spike and my blood. It is Buffy,' she thought angrily to herself, angry at Giles, angry at the sound of his steps as he shuffled his slippers up the wooden stairs. 'What does Giles know? He's not Buffy's damn sister, he's not made of her, he's just her Watcher. Nothing else. He hasn't a fake life full of memories of Buffy- that's what he thinks they are. But they're real. I know they're real. It's happened, and everybody thinks so. Even Angel thinks it.'

She slowly laid down on the slippery couch, pulling a peagreen cashmere throw over her body, leaning her head against a velvet pillow. The tiny individual threads on it rubbed against her fevered cheek as she pulled the chain of the lamp. The room became dim, the only light coming from a small window above the door. It let in a round patch of light, beaming right on Dawn's face. She didn't move.

Laid on her side, not thinking.

Still not moving.

Clock flashed 3:05 AM angrily in her eyes, burning them to their ocean core. It hurt.

Shadow drifted across room. Only a car zooming past, moving quickly like a ghost. It might've been Buffy in that car. Or Mom. Mom was in that car, driving away from Revello Drive, and passing by Giles's street to leave a ghost in the house.

"Hi, Mommy," whispered Dawn so quietly under her breath. "I miss you." She waved at the long-gone shadow.

Another car passed by, the other way, and she knew it was Mommy waving back.

_____________________

It was late. It was really late, and Xander and Willow hadn't moved from their positions in the training room. The room was dark, and the air was so still. Willow still laid upon Xander's chest, her arms encircling his neck below her. Xander's hands splayed across her back, still binding her to him. The titian haired witch didn't know what time it was. She didn't care. Xander only knew it was late, some time that didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered right now. 

Just their comforting weight, doubled when together. Just them together, together, together, and nobody else.

There wasn't any Anya thoughts, or Tara thoughts, or Giles thoughts. There were just Willow and Xander's bodies, warm and comfy. Their presences together were subtle, and together they didn't have to speak. They knew what each other was thinking, they knew what they were feeling, because they united in a way nobody else really understood.

There weren't any witchy telepsathic thoughts, or any sexy Xander undertones. It was just two human bodies and minds together as if they'd never been separated. Both their eyes were pressed shut, the tear tracks visible on their faces. They hadn't spoken since they'd arrived there.

"Xander." Willow stated, not really asking a question, just saying his name. It was comforting. "Alexander Harris." It was weird talking. Unnatural to her in this dazed state. She raised her head off his wonderful chest, and looked at him. His beautiful brown green eyes were open now, and in the moonlight they glazed over the ceiling like beautiful swirly green marbles. He was silent, and did not look back at her.

"I-" she choked a little on her words, "miss Buffy. It- oh goddess, it hurts. Does it hurt you?"

Xander just nodded slightly, pained to hear his best friend in the entire world talk about their other best friend. It hurt right in *there*, that clicheed place where people hurt when something happened. "We can't do anything about it, Will... You know that. Even if _you could, _something would go wrong. It's only been a day. Two days. I don't know. But it's too early even if we could."

She set her jaw slightly against his firm chest. "I want to do something. A spell. I'm not supposed to- no witches are supposed to- but what if she's suffering? Xander, she could be in a Hell dimension like Angel's... Eternal torment. If Buffy's going to die, she's gonna die of something natural, like-like- tuberculosis or something human."

"You're not supposed to," Xander replied gruffly, shaking his head. They were both fully awake- and aware of everything now. "You said so- think about it. You know I'm all for the breaking of the rules, especially when it comes to Buffy. But she is dead and raising her would maybe make things worse."

"Maybe, Xander. Maybe. You said maybe," Willow told him softly, mumbling into his chest looking so hopeless.

"Yeah."  
"Maybe can always make a difference."  
"Maybe not."  
"Maybe yeah."

"Xander," whispered Willow hoarsely, changing the subject. "Shouldn't we go back home?" She looked up at him from the comfortable circle on his chest. His eyes closed, he responded just as softly.

"Don't wanna."   


"Tara and Anya are going to worry," she said quietly.

"Let them," he said, opening his eyes just a hair to see Willow staring at him with an intense look on her face, her sea eyes glassy.

"Okay."

They were silent then. The room became just a fog again in the dim 3 o'clock morn, no beautiful sunset or dawn like when Buffy fell to her glowing doom. The bodies became Willow and Xander again, their past conversation forgotten, their breathing slowing down, their heart rates a steady drum. Then, suddenly, Xander pulled Willow up to a straddling position on his chest, looking into her eyes quickly as he placed her hands on his shoulders.

His strong hands encircled her pale little wrists freckled with dots of sun that were gripping his shoulders. For some odd reason, his heartbeat quickened a pace, and he felt... Felt like doing something other than crying. He didn't have to go home to Anya. He didn't have to think about Buffy right now.

Willow peered down at him wonderingly, into his strong jawline and soft black hair and his comfortable sweater and her- rather unusual position on his chest that was rubbing in certain places between her thighs. It was making her a little- well, stimulated. Her face flushed a hot red, feeling it creep down into her stomach and cause little tinkerbells to fly around, glowing her up. 

Then, Xander placed his wood weathered hands on each side of Willow's face and sat up a little more, so that now Willow slid down to his lap, her back supported by his bent legs, her own legs on each side of his back, straddling him tightly, her skirt riding up a little. But it was enough to take an extra breath of air, his pink lips parted. Willow licked her lips eagerly, forgetting the earlier sorrow.

Xander tipped her chin up to look into her eyes swiftly before capturing her mouth was his, their lips now firmly pressed to each other, their chests rising and falling in the same rhythym, gasping for air as they came up for air in the fastest kiss Willow and Xander had each experienced. Xander placed his arms around Willow's middle as she leaned back slightly on his bent knees, her legs contracting around his middle as he attempted to get closer to her, her body squirming slightly as it got hotter. A second passed as they looked at each other in disbelief, then, smashed their mouths to the others once again.

Lips parted and opened, gasping for breath each time they did. _Oh goddddd... Soooo... Goooodd... Feeling... _thought Willow, right as Xander slipped his velvety tongue into her mouth, right over her own tongue. She slid her own pink little tongue into his mouth, which made him groan. Really, really loudly. "Uhhhhnnnnnnnn... Will," moaned Xander, as he continued kissing her back. _Oh god.... Willow. So good, don't stop, Willow, oh, don't.... _Xander thought desperately as their tongues slipped together, making a delicious wetness. Her mouth tasted like strawberries with sugar and whipped cream. Each time her tongue rubbed against his and their lips brushed together, it sent little wrigging sparks down the front of his body, which she was rubbing against, desperate for more contact.

Willow made a tiny little noise, coming from the back of her throat- which made Xander forget all thoughts about the stopping of the kissing because he had a _girrrrrrrrrl_friend. The girl part was droned out in his thoughts as Willow placed her hands around the back of his neck, and started combing her fingers unconsciously through the soft and tiny little hairs that covered the hot space. She raked her teeth over his tongue softly, which caused him to moan again in pure delight. "Willlllll," he groaned softly. "Good..." Xander took in a big gulp of breath before returning to her tasty strawberry mouth, "spot..."

The red haired girl was then even more determined to make Xander make that sound again, which was making shooting thunderbolts of desire go down to that-that place that was also uncannily a good spot. She snaked a hand down between them to press upon the crotch of Xander's baggy khakis- where then, she found him extremely happy. He broke apart from her mouth suddenly to take in another gulp of air and look down to see her tiny hand pressing down on his-his other parts, making it stand up even more to attention, if that was possible.

Then, a loud knock on the steel door brought more than his happy stick to attention.

"Xanderrrrrrrrr! Willooowwwww!" bellowed a familiar voice. "Are you guys all right?"

It was Anya. 

__________________________

**Muwahaha! Xander and Willow! Sorry it took so long for me to stick in this chapter. More to come soon. This is why (and some other spots) it's rated R. **


End file.
